As he paused for a reply, she felt herself bound to say something. "Oh, yes, I do," she said,—"as well as anybody else."
"And is that all?"
"I suppose so."
After that he rode on for the best part of another mile before he spoke to her again. He had made up his mind that he would do it. He hardly knew why it was that he wanted her. He had not determined that he was desirous of the charms or comfort of domestic life. He had not even thought where he would live were he married. He had not suggested to himself that Lucinda was a desirable companion, that her temper would suit his, that her ways and his were sympathetic, or that she would be a good mother to the future Sir Griffin Trewett. He had seen that she was a very handsome girl, and therefore he had thought that he would like to possess her. Had she fallen like a ripe plum into his mouth, or shown herself ready so to fall, he would probably have closed his lips and backed out of the affair. But the difficulty no doubt added something to the desire. "I had hoped," he said, "that after knowing each other so long there might have been more than that."
She was again driven to speak because he paused. "I don't know that that makes much difference."
"Miss Roanoke, you can't but understand what I mean."
"I'm sure I don't," said she.
"Then I'll speak plainer."
"Not now, Sir Griffin, because I'm so wet."
"You can listen to me even if you will not answer me. I am sure that you know that I love you better than all the world. Will you be mine?" Then he moved on a little forward so that he might look back into her face. "Will you allow me to think of you as my future wife?"